


Change of plans

by Kelteiru (2xcross)



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, Frottage, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Scout Abuse, Temporary Character Death, Top!Scout - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:54:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26727019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2xcross/pseuds/Kelteiru
Summary: A little of Scout Abuse, in exchange of he getting what he wants from two big guys.(It was going to be only one fic! I swear!)
Relationships: Scout/Demoman (Team Fortress 2), Scout/Soldier (Team Fortress 2)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20





	1. Win the battle but lose the war

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deadscoutz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadscoutz/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who’s pushin’ now, huh?
> 
> Show me what you can do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a fanart from a dead blog, that pictured a very similar situation. I may or may not have sent that ask.

Scout enters the base garage while jogging, escaping from the murderous cold of the desert night. He is shivering, stroking his exposed arms emphatically. Soldier follows him slowly, closing the metallic curtain behind him. Instead of quivering like a wet dog as Scout is doing, Soldier clenches his jaw, resisting his body urges to tremble as his teammate.

“It’s chillin’ outside!” complains Scout, joggling near a table that the team keeps there. “Remind me again why the hell I followed you there!”

“I heard a noise, like someone sneaking outside!” spits Soldier. “Like a _Spy_!”

“We didn’t make sure if it wasn’t _our_ Spy!” Soldier before just snatched Scout from his forearm and pushed him outside. 

“It _didn’t_ sound like _him_!”

Scout scowls. “That makes _no_ sense! How ya gonna know dat?! Ya barely can even hear, man! And what ‘bout your raccoons, huh?!”

Soldier strides towards him, who has stopped joggling. He is scowling as well.

“Okay, if it was a Spy—but I’m sure it wasn’t—we didn’t take our weapons with us!” keeps arguing Scout.

“We needed to caught him in the act!” Soldier arguments back, deepening his voice, starting to lose the little he has of temper. “No time to waste! There is only _now_ ”—Soldier jabs his index in Scout’s sternum, who jerks from the touch—“and _now_ , son.”

Scout takes a step back, he points at Soldier accusatively. “Then why didn’t _you_ have your shotgun with you, huh? What ya-what ya gonna say now?”

The man in front of him freezes. That’s easy: Soldier was getting ready to go to bed, to sleep until 0500. Though, he is not admitting having done a mistake to a kid, not any time soon.

It only takes one heavy step forward of Soldier for Scout to know that he needs to run. With a yelp he dodges Soldier coming for him, jumping to a side, then he begins running around the table. The thing is, Soldier is quite slow. Soon more than later it looks like Scout is one pursuing. Not only that, Scout is uncareful enough to collide against Soldier—definitely not his smartness moment. He could’ve easily walked backwards, with his arms crossed in front of him, looking for mercy, following an already overdone established script between them. This time, he pushes Soldier as soon as he turns around.

Soldier doesn’t move an inch. He gives him a crooked grin, glaring under his helmet. Scout tries again, using more of his strength, and his whole weight too. Soldier still doesn’t move from his place. He tilts his head to a side, and shrugs. Then, he collapses on his back on the table near them, the furniture creaking below him, keeping the soles of his feet attached to the floor. It doesn’t make much sense, but Scout isn’t going to question it.

“Ha! In your face!”

The face of Soldier is devoid of any expression.

“...Alright, what are ya doin’?” Scout asks, defeated. Soldier must be still trying to kill him.

“What are _you_ , doing, private?” Soldier repeats back.

Weird, he doesn’t know Soldier for playing mental games. Scout leans back with precaution, holding his chin with one of his hands. Observing Soldier on his back, waiting, possibly waiting for him, _most likely_ waiting for him, he turns his mind off. Scout crawls over Soldier, having one or more brief thoughts about being in the perfect range for a neck-snap, that he discards immediately. There is only now and now, he reflects, as he poses a tentative kiss under Soldier’s broad jaw. He turns around, lowering his head, making their lips brush.

 _Is happening_.

Scouts gaps, his heart is pounding ( _Oh God Oh God Oh G..._ ). Soldier uses that as an opportunity to gradually slide the tip of his tongue inside of Scout’s mouth, as slow as he raises a hand to eventually rest it over his teammate's nape. He is barely touching the other tongue and (big) incisors, when Scout glides his whole organ of taste inside, almost as if he is going for Solly’s tonsils, or even looking to go further down the throat. This initiates Soldier fight-or-flight response. What was going to be an embrace ends up being a strong grip with nails sinking in skin, shoving Scout off by the neck.

“What the—?!” yells Scout.

Soldier growls, frowning. “Not like that.”

A battle consists in _two_ parts fighting.

“Lemme try again...” 

Scout inclines his head down again. He kisses Soldier, sticking out his tongue, trying to get in again. Soldier instead refuses to open his mouth, snarling. It is a siege, one that he is going to resist. Meanwhile, seeing that his attempts are fruitless, Scout continues to give him sloppy kisses, however he lays down his whole body on Soldier. He soon starts grinding his hips against Soldier, who opens his legs to accommodate Scout better. This gives him ideas, attempting again to stick his tongue on Soldier’s mouth. He turns his face to a side, ignoring Scout’s sad guttural little noise, who then resumes kissing (and nibbling) him in the mandible, rocking even harder, making the sound of their structures clashing evident even for the semi-deaf ears of the explosive class.

That’s when Soldier feels it. At first it’s possible that he wasn’t paying enough attention to the second half of their bodies. Now he can feel a hard dick gliding against his crotch. He can’t help not smile when he feels a wave of his own arousal traveling his body, starting from his middle, his breathing turning more deep and erratic. But, the affection is not enough estimulating, thanks to Scout, unimportant, erection. Soldier commences rolling his hips upwards, seeking for more. As answer, Scout slams his body with renovated vigor, his bony sharp hips hitting him, slamming the sides of his groin...

God. That’s not. It isn’t. That’s not really...

“ _SCOUT!_ ” shouts Soldier.

He stops moving altogether, lifting himself from Soldier on his hands. “Now what?”

Soldier doesn’t find the right words to say. He is not, worried (why would he be?), he’s just...

“I’m too much ya, dontcha?” Scouts brags, “I bet I—”

Soldier growls loudly, shutting up Scout. He looks down at the kid, supporting his head on his left hand.

“Okay. I’ll slow down for ya, big guy...”

This causes Soldier to grunt again, Scout ignores it. This time he goes lower, his face in front of Soldier’s pecs, who raises an eyebrow.

“Good enough,” whispers Scout to himself, loud enough for Soldier to listen. Scout unzips Soldier’s jacket down to his bell—Soldier raises both of his eyebrows—, moving the sides out of his way. He fumbles with the t-shirt from the collar, pushing it downwards, not going much further than exposing the breastbone. “Ah, whatever.”

Scouts nose-dives Soldier’s pectorals, who reacts surprised, holding his breath. He nuzzles both pecs from the hairy middle, later moving to the right, not without drawing a line of loud breathy smooches. With his left hand, Scout grips the other pectoral with unusual strength. Perhaps Scout pretended his weakness in the past, or he has hidden potential, more than what Soldier thought previously. He chortles, content and proud with the discovery, relishing the pain that comes from being squeezed. His laughs are cut when Scouts bites _hard_ his right nipple at the same time he pinches and _twists_ the other one.

Soldier bites his tongue. He sharply removes Scout by grabbing him by the top of his head. He sits on the table, putting Scout back on his feet. He could also feel the metallic flavor of blood.

“Give me a good reason to not kill you right now, maggot,” he threatens hoarsely, panting and wheezing from the impression and leftover arousal.

“I thought ya liked it like that—”

Scout yelps when Soldier strengthens his grips, lifting Scout from the ground. Scout tries to free himself tugging his teammate wrists, with zero results. On the other hand, Soldier isn’t going to admit that Scout shenanigan was a little too distressing. Pain is weakness leaving the body after all, there is no real limit from what, he, a real soldier, can endure. However, life has taught him that there is always more pain around the next corner. He can only accept it, embody the anguish, inflict it... 

The thing is, Scout insists on messing with his constant state of alert—that makes him angry, furious. Those survival instincts are the ones that kept him alive in Poland, and during all of his life. It doesn’t matter if some of his teammates complain that he’s supposedly too undaunted out there in the battle, he comes out alive each time, over and over again—cupcake “don’t call me cupcake” helps too sometimes.

“Soldier—” chokes out Scout, still fighting and kicking. He almost forgot about him. Soldier puts him back on his feet.

“Do something _well_ this time,” demands Soldier.

“Watchu mean?”

Soldier fulminates him with his gaze.

Scout clears his throat. “You’ll see, you’re gonna like this. I will make you love...”

“ _Scout._ ” Soldier isn’t even listening to the kid anymore. He only has to wait until everything is over: endure, that’s what he does well. Soldier stops resting his head on his hand and lays wholy on the table.

“Alright.”

Scout jumps back on the table, over Soldier. He gets close enough to Soldier’s face to him to feel Scout’s mouth respiration. While humming, like he’s thinking hard, Scout shifts his position again, moving to a side. He sits over one of Soldier's thighs, then with both of his hands he opens both of their pants zippers. There is no time to waste. Scout pushes down his underwear band, taking out his erection.

“I told ya. I’ll _lovemake_ ya. Oh, you're gonna _adore_ it!”

Soldier straightens a bit. “I don’t think that’s what you said before!”

“I’m gonna admit it, you are _softer_ than I thought. That’s _sweet_ , that’s what I like in—”

His speech is cut off when Soldier grabs him by the face, squeezing his cheeks.

“Aw man,” Scout babbles, barely intelligible, “y-you gotta lemme finish this.”

Soldier sighs, freeing Scout from his grip. The battle isn’t over yet, he has to keep that in mind.

In one motion, Scout pulls down Soldier’s pants and underwear altogether, gruff enough to pull Soldier with it a bit. That sole movement reminds Soldier of the thrill he was feeling before. It makes him laugh, looking at the ceiling, it doesn’t matter if his bottom is now suddenly exposed to the cold of the desert that creeps inside the garage, that becomes even more exposed when Scout lifts his legs up. His laughing stops once the tip of Scout’s cock rubs against his hole, his heart jumping a beat. He puts one forearm below the table, getting ready for what’s next. Soldier withstands the onslaught, gritting his teeth, tensing his whole body, exhaling all of his air from his lungs. Without waiting any longer, Scout pounds him while he also resumes nuzzling him in his neck, brushing his stubble. He mumbles more incoherences that Soldier refuses to listen. 

With his free hand, Soldier jerks off his neglected dick. He grunts from the pain and he sighs for air, leaving him dizzy. It makes him chuckle, that develops into a suffocated sick laugh, which subsequently turns into wheezing. His head spins; there is a glimpse of pleasure, shining weak as a hundred of years faraway constellation. Sex is war, war is sex, everybody knows that (even him; especially him). Except, that sex is one of the few occasions where sometimes it's okay to lost. Okay to let go, okay to stop thinking, okay to forget the fury that takes over his will and makes him do things that _don’t_ always make him proud. The few good things in his life, ending in ruins because of a fit each time: history can’t stop repeating itself.

Soldier could almost hear the trumpets of victory in the distance. The afterbattle calm, the silence, with lifeless bodies lying around everywhere, in different states of carnage, ones apparently sleeping peacefully, with a bullet to the heart, others having everything that goes inside their bodies spilled all over the camp. He can see it all, as he is _right_ there, just as he’s getting close to the climax, almost reaching it, almost...

He hears a short shriek, one that definitely doesn’t come from himself. Shortly, Scout removes himself from Soldier, putting down Soldier’s legs. He wobbles, finding trouble in keeping his balance. With a satisfied beam on his face, Scout stretches his back in front of him, putting his hands behind his waist. Soldier only puts attention to his own unsteady breathing, still gasping for more air.

After a few, Scouts nudges Soldier on a leg. “Are you still here? Ya got really quiet all the sudden. Told ya, I took your breath away and everything!” Scout snickers. “Oh, you must be _so_ impressed. I’d be if I was you...”

Soldier doesn’t pronounce any words. He keeps his eyes shut.

“Hello? I didn’t kill ya, did I...?”

Scout climbs over Soldier. He pushes the helmet away, his gaze finding Soldier’s own gaze, glaring at him and having his eyebrows heavily furrowed. “You seem pretty alive to me.”

Soldier blows air through his nose. 

Scout waits for a little longer, keeping his stare still, neither of them blinking. 

“Solly. You, un-der-stand me?”

_That’s it._

All of the sudden, Soldier sits, pushing Scout with him. He catches Scout’s head between his two firm palms. Scout tries to fight back in vain, Soldier not waiting any longer to snap his neck, perceiving the fracture occurring through his touch. Scout falls inert to the floor, eyes wide open, his last aghast expression petrified—and his genitals exposed as well.

The next thing Soldier does is getting rid of the rest of his clothing, throwing them to random directions, with the hopes of ameliorating the suffocation sensation that still doesn’t quite leave him. After that he grasps his half-soft dick, tugging from it.

“Soldier,” calls a masculine voice.

“Not now God. I am doing what _men_ do.”

“I’m not—” The voice from the base speakers interrupts himself after a click. “I am the voice of your conscience, Mister Doe.”

“LIES!” he yells, continuing masturbating himself while looking down at his dead teammate. That’s not what his conscience sounds like. He’s sure he will know once he does in fact hear it, one day.

“ _Soldier,_ ” the voice insists.

“Dammit!” With his free hand, he raises a fist to a general direction.

He hears a long sigh. “Just, clean before you leave. That includes Scout.”


	2. You looked me in the eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...and I knew, I knew! The second time.
> 
> Do not disturb! An unthinkable backfire from a prank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Intro can be skipped, but provides context.

Whistling, Demo stops his steps when he sees a pair of sneakers inside the second stall of the restroom. He stops his whistles, trying to hear any other sound with his ears. Nothing, there is complete silence, peace reigning in the base bathroom. Probably the most peaceful place there... Nevermind, he himself has fought there before, almost forgot.

He smiles mischievously. 

Quickly, but not too fast to raise any suspicion, he goes inside the third toilet booth. With one firm step, he steps over the toilet, grabbing the top of the cubicle wall for extra support. 

“SCOUT—”

Demo doesn’t like what he sees. If not like he didn’t think that as a possibility before, but it takes him by surprise anyway: he hoped better, way too better. The surprise urges him to push the cubicle’s wall, abruptly leaning backwards. The sudden and without care movement causes his heel to slide off the toilet, losing like that all of his balance.

He falls. Hard. The next thing he knows is that he is over a collapsed, broken cubicle wall, and that one of his feet pierced the other wall in front of him, leaving his leg hanging from there, while the other is over the toilet. Demo groans loudly, closing his eye to pretend that none of what just occurred actually happened.

Too soon, he hears somebody walking slowly towards him. Demo scrunches his whole face. He might as well be dead—although, the one that should be experiencing a bigger humiliation isn’t him.

“Demo—”

“ _No_ , shut up.”

“W-what?!” exclaims Scout, offended. “Y-you’re the just peeked when-when I was _occupied_! Ya can’t do that! What the fuck, man!” 

“I didn’t think ye were _actually_ doin’ that!”

Demoman glares at Scout, who took a brief pause before talking. He lowers his voice below to his usual volume: “So, ya _did_ think I coulda been doin’—”

“ _Yes._ ” 

Of course. Of fucking course. He knows him. Everybody knows him.

Scout turns around, hiding his face beneath his hands and with his elbows pointing upwards. He makes some inhumane noise. In the meantime, Demo frees his calf from the divider, breaking another good chunk of the wall with the motion. Now both of his legs are over the goddamn toilet.

His teammate hears that, turning to face Demo.

“Stop putting _us_ in more troubles!” urges Scout.

“Uh?! This is _your_ fault!”

“No way!”

“Bah!”

“Come on man, stand up at least!”

Scout gets closer, offering him a hand. Demo stretches his right, until he snatches it back to himself.

“ _Gross!_ ”

Crossing his arms, Scout scowls at him. “Well, do what ya want, I don’t care. Ya know I can leave ya like this...”

His speech is diffused in the background. Instead of listening, Demoman figures out that he is quite comfy, despite the situation, if he doesn’t count the increasing pain in his lower back. The wall behind him is slightly tilted, supported in the other toilet. He has been in far worse situations than this one after all.

“Are ya even listenin’?”

“Uh. No. Not really.”

Scout sighs. “You used to be much nicer. What a waste...”

Demo snorts. “WHat?” He begins chortling.

“This is _exactly_ what I mean!”

“Oh, yer kiddin’ me...”

He’s having a hard time staying angry. Scout always manages to make things more absurd than they already are. 

Then, they both listen to the creak of a door opening.

“Bloody perfect,” complains Demo.

It’s Engineer who strolls inside, all while humming. Without noticing the others glaze over him, he stops near an urinal. He starts to undo his suspenders, but takes a pause. He turns around, finding his two colleagues staring at him, and the disaster one of the two is lying on.

“...Why?” he asks, once a vague glimpse of surprise on his face is gone. His head oscillates, observing carefully the scene in front of him.

“I fell from the toilet,” calmly answers Demoman.

“ _Why_ ya were standin’ there—?” He cuts himself off. Scout is flushing, eyes wide open, and he is also anxiously grabbing one of his wrists with his other hand. Engie wrinkles his nose. “Ah. I don’t want to know anymore.”

* * *

It was still daylight when he went to sleep, now when he has opened his eye, he has found himself surrounded by nighttime darkness. A sharp pain crosses his head from side to side, prompting him to grunt and shut his eye close. It becomes a dull ache, similar to his pain in his back from the previous fall. He needs to know the time, hopefully he has slept all night and he can leave the bed early for once... He needs a painkiller as well.

Demo stretches his arm to his nightstand, finding a strip of medicine first, pulling it to himself. He tries again, finding his analog alarm clock that never has an alarm. Demoman brings the little gadget really close to his face, trying to keep his eye open for a second time, until he’s able to see the clock hands. After double checking, the clock keeps showing him the same time: around 2:45am. “ _Fuck..._ ” He smashes it back to the stand, then he sits on the bed, scratching his face. Looking around, he lifts the closest bottle to his mattress, turning it over. It only has drops to offer to him. 

_You will develop a perforation in your esophagus_ , Demo hears Medic say inside of his head, when he swallows a acetaminophen pill without any liquid, throwing his head back. If he ever does get a gap there (but he won’t), is nothing that cannot be fixed by Medic anyway. He would rather get over the headache and... he’s not willing to wait another three hours. Not remaining sober, or awake. Being conscious at haunting hours? Letting his mind wander, having to listen to his mind soliloquy for that long so late? Not if he can avoid it! 

He supposes that he can resume drinking with the breakfast. Besides, he doesn’t have any intention of leaving the bed. The only option he has to help him to fall asleep that isn’t drinking it’s... 

Demo chuckles, remembering what happened earlier. He wonders how many times Scout has been caught wanking himself off. In his case, the number is zero. There was this one time, many years ago, but both of his parents are blind—well, _were_ blind—so it doesn’t really count. May God have put his dad in the purgatory, the best a demoman that has done their job can expect. You ask for forgiveness, then God sends you to Heaven at the end; that’s how catholicism works, right? He can be better once he doesn’t have a job anymore, too old or blind to work.

 _Ah,_ he is going to _Hell_ , for sure. All those unfortunates that he turns into gibs, sending them in all directions, always a pleasure to watch. He’s not really worried about Heaven or Hell, he likes his job, only contemplating about it when he thinks about all of his parents, dead or alive, which reminds him that he doesn’t want to be awake for much longer. 

He is... sober. Mostly. His dick should work (unless it doesn’t, in which case he will look for more booze). He only needs some extra inspiration that his imagination can provide. Scout touching himself while sitting in a toilet isn’t the most inspiring image (just a little), it makes him titter. He has to go further in his fantasy. Demo begins jerking his penis, trying to think of something else. Like titties, pussies, dicks again. His teammates; his teammates naked; the bathroom cubicles (again); holes... God-Fucking-Dammit. He is far, far proud of his next idea, but that will do.

While smiling, he rolls to his back and scoots slightly upwards, at the same time he moves the pillow under his head lower, to comfort his head better. He rests his left forearm on his brow, having his other arm occupied under the sheets, a shifting tent being visible from the outside. His respiration gets more unsteady, sucking air through his teeth, a simper fixed in his face. It’s been a while since a fantasy turns him on this much, it’s perhaps a shame that the vivid reveries will probably never leave the recondites of his brain, never ever shared. It’s certain that it’d also be a biggest embarrassment if he tried to retell the fruits of his imagination to anyone. Some things aren’t meant to be shared, Demo reflects as his sighs get louder than before, his hand accelerating the pace.

“Ah, fuck...” he huffs, panting, making a fist with his free hand. His body is progressively warmer and warmer, the bed starting to feel too hot. He takes into consideration that he should get something for his seeds in not that much longer. Then he will sleep, make bombs once he is wide awake, kill people, maybe cause some trouble on purpose because he can, and repeat, not forgetting to drink during the day to keep the withdrawal symptoms away: a dependency that he enjoys, most of the time. Is not a bad life, the only element keeping it from being perfect is the bottomless pit in his chest.

He arches his back, repressing a moan. The idea of trying to not mess his sheet has been forgotten into oblivion, too deep into his visualization, but the sound of a door opening sends him back to reality. Frightened, he raises his head to look. He makes eye contact with the intruder. Scout stands still for the longest second Demo has ever experienced, then he slams the door closed.

No way. Why him, why now. Why, how it happened _twice_. It is some kind of cosmic joke? Demo covers his face with his hands, giving a muffled scream. 

Before he is done yelling, the door opens again, spooking him to the point of chills going over his back. Scout enters, closing the door behind. He gawks at him, eye wide-open. Demo musits a soft “no,” clutching the sheet's edges: he couldn’t be more dazed than what he already is. Nonchalantly, as if they already had that kind of trust, Scout crawls over Demoman, until their faces are close. He’s beaming from side to side.

“ _This_ can’t be an accident.”

 _Bullshit._

Demoman finally reacts. He seizes Scout from behind his shirt collar, provoking Scout to yelp and spit at his face. As long as he moves Scout away from him, it doesn’t matter getting a bit spit on. Demo opens his mouth, staying like that for a moment, not knowing what to say.

“ _It is_ an accident, ye blokehead, just as before,” he retorts with a shaky voice, unsure of why he is even bothering to give an answer. He could just kick him out of his room, not before beating the living shit out of him. Is rare when Scout makes him this mad. No, what is happening is on another whole level, that he still can’t completely grasp yet.

Scout taps him in the shoulder, asking for the floor (and for air). Demoman groans, losing his grip. The kid coughs, spitting more on him. “I-I can explain,” he stammers, gasping like a fish out of the water, “we now saw each other, doin’ that, the-the same day. It's like we have a, like a _connection_ , man, a real one. Ya get it?”

Once more, Demoman has no idea what to say. Instead, he burst into laughter. This is why he can get angry with Scout, or not for too long. Soon more than later starts guffawing. But this time it isn’t actually funny. As soon as Scout joins his laughs, Demo pulls from the t-shirt again.

“Yer insane, lad.” He got ideas in the weirdest way possible. That reminds him that he doesn’t want to look below, to see if Scout is happy to see him.

Scout throws his head back. “You’re angry ‘cuz I didn’t knock on your door?” asks innocently. “Or ‘cuz the hour? I didn’t—”

“What?!” Demo snorts. “Fuck ye! Ye really think I’m angry _only_ ‘cuz—?!” He cackles, unable to finish his sentence. He is now the one spitting on Scout. “Fuck!” He needs to get serious or Scout will get _more_ ideas. Against his better judgment, Demo takes a peek down. Not sure if he is seeing well, he squints his eye, confirming that Scout is indeed hard. “ _FUCK!_ ” Disgusting. Demoman pulls harder from the clothing on purpose, Scout fighting for his breath. He changes his mind, easing again for the relief of Scout.

“Goddammit, I bet ye get hard from this! I told Soldier to stop stranglin’ ye so much!”

“I’m—!” Scouts gaps. “He didn’t do dat last time!”

“...The fuck ye said?!” Why phrasing that like that? His stupid soda cans must have finally melted the poor kid brain. At this point Demo is not sure if Scout is red-faced from the lack of air, or from embarrassment. In any case, this is enough for Demoman. He lets go of Scout, pushing him away from his face. “ _OUT!_ I’m done!” The only thing keeping him from trying to kill him that instant is the fact that he’s naked under the bed clothes. He has been humiliated enough for the day, not wanting to lose the little privacy he has left.

Scout wobbles to the side of the bed. Surprisingly (although, he could be surprised at this point?), he stays still right where he landed.

“But man...” he begs.

“ _No._ ” Demo doesn’t want to look at him anymore.

“...Our, connection... This is special, I swe—”

Demoman grabs him by the neck with one hand. On this occasion he drags Scout towards himself. He could, no, he _has_ to just kill him now, he has tolerated his teammate fucking around more than long enough. Scout doesn’t even get this, he’s not like him, or not _this much_. Demo can see himself in Scout: eager; clingy (oh, the loneliness). However, there is something more ominous about Scout, something else than him being abrasive. Unlike him, Demo prides himself on being—an actual—gentleman. He is aware that he’s just selling an enjoyable lie, only to get what he wants for a short period of time. A lie that he then himself falls into, breaking his own foolish heart each time—besides, his vocation got in between anything that could’ve been serious.

...Why couldn't Scout try to seduce him in a proper way? Not as he was a lass, but not this way either. This is creeping him out. It’s saddening. He looks at Scout, trying to liberate himself. Demo is nearly unable to feel pity, and any of the pettiness he is feeling probably comes from Scout’s babyface. The whole situation is just bizarre. Kind of, funny.

Demo chuckles. His future self isn’t going to be happy about this. Another bad decision on a list that keeps growing longer. 

He pushes Scout away, realising his neck. “Take off yer shoes.”

Scout leans forward on the bed, coughing. In the meantime, Demoman shifts back, turning on the lamp on the nightstand. He doesn’t want any tricks, too sober to forget all of his concern, aware of playing being with danger once more. Demo isn’t sure anymore if that is an old habit that refuses to die, or a form or life.

“Ya gonna like this, I’ll show ya,” Scout affirms as he takes off his sneakers, pulling from the heel, his voice sounding raspy. Demoman only raises an eyebrow, and he soon has Scout over him again, sitting astride over him. He is somehow, despite the murder attempt, still hard and content. “I know what I’m doin’.”

“Ye do?” Demo grabs him gently by the chin. He swears Scout shivers at the touch. “Show me, lad.” He leans back, placing his head on the pillows, guiding Scout with him. The kid obliges, resting his whole body on Demo. With that, he can feel his teammate penis throbbing between them. He flats his nose nostrils, still not entirely into this. Scout lays a shy kiss on his lips, one that he corresponds, appreciating the peck more than he’d like to admit. In a blink of an eye, Scout tries to slip his whole tongue inside of his mouth, breaking the illusion. Demo shoves him apart by his shoulder.

“Slow down,” he demands.

“You’re not gonna try to kill me, right?”

Demo opens his mouth, confused. “I already tried that, if ye didnae notice,” he sighs, snickering later. “Nae everything has to be fast, ye ken, lad?”

Scout laughs nervously. “Haha! Of course I know. Though, I dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”

He blows air, cackling later. This should be good, he shouldn’t worry so much. Scout leans down again, kissing him from the corner of his mouth. Demo turns his head, trying to stop laughing, taking Scout by the nape with both of his hands. He shows Scout how it should be done, who seems to follow. Their kisses gradually get more passionate and steamy, Demo having to move apart every now and then for air, Scout not giving him a break. As the kisses become deeper and deeper, both groan nearly at unison. Demoman moves his hands all over Scout’s back, finding his ribs and vertebrae too easily, despite touching over his shirt (is there something to grab in this skinny little lad?). Expectantly, Scout commences to hump against Demo groin, with short, tentative humps.

Demoman throws his head back, humming. “Why don’t ye give me some attention here?” He shows him his neglected neck.

“Sure! But...!” Demo groans to the negative. “...I am doin’ good, right?” inquires Scout with a silly smile, and wide-open eyes, as he is deep down terrified, for whatever reason.

“I dunno lad.” Scout frowns, mortified. “I dunno _yet_. C’mon...”

Demo points to his neck again. Anything to keep Scout quiet. Usually he doesn’t mind listening to him that much, he would do that now if the kid would’ve entered his room in another form, with a better timing. Besides, he’s been longing some attention to his neck for a while.

“Sure that you aren’t gonna kill me?”

“ _Scout._ ” Why in the bloody hell does he keep insisting?

“Okay, okay, okay...”

Scout takes a deep breath. He then by surprise swoops over Demoman, inducing him to flinch. He not only nuzzles his neck, he nibbles and sucks his skin. Demo emits all kinds of spontaneous noises due to the attention, not only to his neck but also from Scout continuous grinding to his groin, he himself raising his hips in response. The turtlenecks from both his jumpsuit and his vest should be enough to hide any bruises that Scout can leave. Only somebody excessively prying could still notice them, even if there is less contrast to see them (he should avoid Spy, Engie, and Medic tomorrow).

Bored of fondling Scout’s scrawny back, Demo stealthily relocates his hands to Scout’s butt, putting each hand on each buttcheck, barely touching over them. Scout stops what he’s doing in no time, sitting.

“Heey,” he falters, “can ya not, do that?” 

Demo lifts his hands to the sides of his head, smirking.

“What’s wrong with that, lad?”

“Ya know man, that’s, too _homo_.”

Demo snaps his brows together. This is already plenty homo, what is Scout talking about...? He burst into laughing, once again. “Where else ye want me to grab ye? Yer so skinny!” The only thing he has is ass!

“Ya can grab my dick,” Scout proposes nonchalantly. It just makes Demo laugh harder, slapping his forehead. Scout watches, chuckling anxious. 

Once Demo is done, even having to wipe spit from a corner of his mouth, he says: 

“I’m gonna choose to ignore what ye said.” Scout pouts, which nearly triggers in Demo another laughing fit. “I—You still have too much clothes on, lad. Only took yer shoes off... Dinnae ye want tae get under the sheets?”

Scout’s eyes shine. He unzips his pants, quickly pushing down to his knees his trousers and briefs together, freeing his erection. Demo in first instance presses his lips on a line, changing his expression for a smile before Scout can see. He helps Scout get rid of his t-shirt, tossing it away. He rubs his nose on his teammate's own one, as well he opens the bed clothes, inviting Scout inside. Scout leans forward sharply, managing to make their teeth clank. With the same lack of finesse he accomplishes getting under the sheets.

“Keep doin’ the same ye were doin’ before. I liked that.”

Scout beams. “ _Really?_ ”

“ _Shhh..._ ” Demo shuts him by resuming their kissing, as Scout kick-off rolling his hips against him with the same or more energy as earlier. It’s not that difficult to keep going with Scout, when Demo doesn’t have to do much. Except that Scout is only rubbing his balls and cock base, falling short. 

“Goddamnit...” He grabs Scout by his butt, who protests by yelling.

“HEY! I-I told ya—!”

“ _Shut up._ ” Demo moves him higher, so Scout can grind more directly on his foreskin. “I want ye _here_.”

Scout grunts. “Okay, but no more butt stuff man. Not cool.”

“That includes me.”

“But I still haven’t—”

“You _won’t_ , ye eejit. _I kill ye_.” 

The kid swallows, his Adam’s apple shifting up and down. Demo interlaces his fingers behind Scout's head, pulling him down. As he catches Scout’s lower lip between his own, Scout does some incoherent positive grumbles. Demoman moans as well, rolling his eye, now that his prepuce is receiving some spotlight. In recent years, his sex life has been limited to mostly the occassions he pays for it. When he was between the devil and the deep blue sea, forced to choose between drinking and keeping a proper sex life, he deliberately chose the vice over sex, accepting that he’s a drunk. Nowadays he isn’t going to waste an opportunity served on a plate, though when Scout bites his tongue, he remembers that he is not yet sure about this deal.

It doesn’t matter. Nothing fucking matters. Things are what they are.

“Yer doing good lad,” he stifles a moan, biting his lower lip, “really good...”

Scout clenches his jaw, getting close to bite him again. His steady grinding turns inconsistent, erratic. He cries out, scattering his semen on Demo’s dick and low belly. _Fuck_ , he should’ve stayed quiet, Scout’d have lasted more. What bothers Demoman the most is that Scout has stopped moving, lying down with his head on Demo’s neck crook. He grunts, his desire hasn’t been quenched yet. Demo sneaks a hand down, reaching for his cock under Scout’s body. Briskly, he tugs his foreskin, not paying attention to Scout apparent complaints, until he arches his back, uttering a bellow.

“Ugh, gross,” Scout gripes.

“Ye did the same!” It is about the cum? _Really?_

“Yeah, but... Ah, forget it.”

Scout moves lower, laying his head between Demoman’s pectorals. Demo waits, expecting Scout to complain about his body hair (“too homo”, or some shite like that). The kid surprises him when he brushes his face on his curly chest hair, turning his head from one site to another. He stops, pressing his nose on the breastbone. Demo sighs, his chest still heaving from before. Scout is weirder than he thought, that’s for sure.

“I never imagined I’d hear ya makin’ all of those slutty noises...”

Demoman precipitously rolls to his side, casting Scout to the side.

“Aw man, c’mon...”

Scout scoots closer, hugging Demoman, prompting him to titter. Scout looks up, stretching his lips for another kiss, that Demo obliges, wrapping his arm around Scout too. A sweet kiss, barely tickling their open mouths. They then tilt their heads, deepening the kiss, tasting their tongues. It lasts till Demo breaks it, having the urge to laugh again. Having this, even if it’s only sometimes, couldn’t be that bad. He misses it, he _needs_ it. This time not having to pay, nor prepare for a broken heart neither. Scout isn’t more than another crazy coworker. 

Yes, that sounds about right. He has underestimated Scout, who has shown him another facet of him, one that he hasn’t seen before. Today a door was opened, and Scout probably is never going to really leave. Nothing that he can’t handle, Demo believes. After this scare that he took mostly sober, he’s literally going to lock his door at night from now on. Demo is well aware that when he is drunk and sad, when the solicitude overwhelms him, he depairs. He gets too willing to please, when on the other hand it’s more clear than water that Scout thinks with his dick.

He would rather pay a visit than get visited. Hopefully his drunk self will remember.

Scout adjusts a pillow for himself, next he puts his arm around Demo’s waist. 

“Told ya Demo, this _is_ gonna be good, real good. I can’t wait to show ya.”

Demoman makes an effort to not smirk, twitching his face—he can’t. Soon he burst into laughing once more, guffawing, incapable to hold on. How is he considering this wee little guy some kind of threat? He’s incapable of taking him seriously. So much hope portrayed in such a small body. Scout hasn’t learned enough about life yet.

Scout reluctantly laughs with him, raising an eyebrow. Demo couldn’t be laughing at him (or if he?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the Top!Scout propaganda, it worked! This is the less I can do, and I had a lot of fun while writing. I'm planning in having all three at once in the future.
> 
> Demo is not quite right about Scout 🤔, though he is portrayed as pushy of course. For next time!


End file.
